


Slow Motion Close up

by beekeepercain



Series: Shorts of Shame [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Explicit Language, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, RPS - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was always a mistake.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Motion Close up

**Author's Note:**

> I take none of the blame for any of my RPF. I was blackmailed into this. _Blackmailed_ , I tell you. Friend's prompts, this one for the word "drinking glass".

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The drinking glass slipped from his fingers, fell through the air with the water still inside, unmoving and even, until the bottom collided with the knee covered with dark pants of his suit. The collision released the water. It broke apart into a hundred drops that merged and divided as they moved through the air, splattering on the floor and on his pants. Some of the drops wet the white shirt he wore. Some fell upon the skin of the older's fingers that grabbed him tight and pulled him closer.  
Their lips met, he tasted like champagne and the other tasted like dried berries and wine.  
They'd slept together before - the hands that tore through the layers of clothing knew their ways around their bodies, the tricks that got them going even before their fingers strayed to forbidden areas. It was always a mistake, always an accident, always unplanned, even if in they'd spent the whole night giving out their intentions. It was play, an act, part of the plan, all in good humour, just for the laughs.

They never meant it.

Not when the younger's fingers traced the older's neck sending shivers down his spine; not when the older's lips kissed the back of the younger's neck so fleetingly that it was never clear whether or not his mouth had ever touched the skin at all, knowing well that the feel of his breath alone was enough to turn the younger on, to send his heart racing.  
"Misha?" the younger mouthed, unable to make a sound.

"Shut the fuck up, Jensen," was what he got for an answer, feeling a bite on the side of his jaw.

"You're drunk," he muttered and pulled the short hair, more than willingly spreading apart his legs, begging for what would come certainly enough.

"And no one cares," Misha responded.

There was a fire behind his blue eyes, but not even that fire matched the warmth of his smile.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~


End file.
